


As Fate Would Have It

by GloriaVictoria



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Character Study, Daddy Issues, Fate & Destiny, Love Confessions, M/M, Post PR1, also there's sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaVictoria/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: Hermann Gottlieb believed in fate. He just never thought it would ever lead him to anything he wanted. Then again, fate works in mysterious ways..





	As Fate Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

> A fic that I got the idea for while sitting in the car, wondering about Hermann's religious life. It turned into this fun character study/excuse to write porn. Enjoy. 
> 
> ******* Like my work? Consider supporting me! Buy me a Ko-fi! https://ko-fi.com/C0C5CWYM *******

For Hermann, faith had never played a particularly significant role in his life. That didn't mean, however, that he'd no experience with it. On the contrary, he grew up in a staunchly Catholic family, a reality which contrasted sharply with his father's fascination with numbers and figures--at least, to Hermann's mind. How could truth lie both in Noah's rainbow and in the perfect arc of a parabola? How could the divine concision of _e=mc²_ hold the same power as the words of a God? Hermann couldn’t wrap his mind around it, but then the machinations of his father's heart never made much sense to him.

However, just because Hermann had never found faith didn't mean religion had no effect on him. In fact, it implanted one very simple idea inside him, so deeply and inextricably that it would guide him all throughout his life. The stories his priest told from his pulpit about kings torn asunder by dogs, rivers running red with blood, men thrown into pits to die by their brothers, all helped him understand that mankind commanded very little control over their own lives, that fate commanded the universe, shrouded in the vestments of an almighty God. Only one certainty awaited for anyone: death. Why capitulate to a power that torments its supplicants in such a way? 

Fate, however, made perfect sense to Hermann. Some things could not be changed, just like the formulae his father wrote on his wall-size office chalkboard, just like his iron will, just like the rules by which he made his children live. Hermann could see this play out in his life all the time. At school, he couldn't fit in with his peers: too intelligent, too strange, with a poor sense for the feelings of others. Therefore, he determined that his fate dictated a life of solitary study, of research and scholarship. This suited Hermann just fine, and it would certainly suit his father, too--arguably the more important point. Lars Gottlieb, the immovable stone, took no quarter in such matters.

As he grew older, this universal truth played out again and again. He proved one of the brightest minds of his age, blowing away the expectations of his instructors and winning the ire of his fellow students. As his star rose higher and higher, he disregarded the tiny voice in the back of his mind that made him question whether all of his success counterbalanced the terrible loneliness inside him, the gnawing ache for connection that had dwelt within him since childhood. He felt like Jonah inside the mouth of the great fish, perhaps too prideful to realize his folly.

In college, he studied the Greeks for a time, as a way to meet his university’s standards for humanities education. They, too, believed in fate, built their whole existence around the idea that everything, no matter how small, turned like a gear inside the grand machinery of the universe. Gods fell at the whims of fate, men rose to power and then found themselves cut down in an instant, all because of a prophecy foretold centuries before their birth. Hermann found it fascinating. Of course, all that about a trio of old women with one eyeball between them snipping and weaving people’s lives together was nothing but poppycock, but the essence of it resounded with Hermann. We all have our place. We all have our destiny.

Then, the Leviathan rose from the Deep, and Hermann’s destiny grew ever clearer. He could help beat back this awesome threat; indeed, his skills perfectly suited the task at hand. Intense calculations and figures, physics so experimental he had no context for them in anything he'd ever read or studied.

Writing to Newton Geiszler for the first time felt like destiny, too. He knew as soon as he had picked up his pen and began to scribble down a message that whatever happened after would change his life. It had to. Geiszler understood the importance of the impending threat, and the thrill of discovery that the Breach represented. Hermann enrolled at the Jaeger Academy as soon as his dissertation had been defended, and shortly thereafter, he learned that Geiszler had as well.

Their first meeting marked the first time that fate failed him.

Years before this meeting, Hermann had spent a long time imagining how wonderful talking to this intelligent, fascinating man in person would be. Geiszler could keep up with him--finally, someone with the mind to understand him! Geiszler enjoyed reading through his algorithms and equations, could answer his hypotheses with equally rich ideas that made Hermann's mind work harder than it had in years. In turn, Hermann looked forward to Geiszler’s latest dissertation chapter or his newest theories on Kaiju physiology, how he wanted so bad to get hold of a real Kaiju corpse, how he just knew that he could crack the mystery of their origins. Hermann didn’t doubt it for a minute: only a man like Geiszler could.

The photos Geiszler sent to him upon request hadn’t helped. Sometimes, Hermann would pull them out of his desk for no good reason, just to look at Geiszler’s face: the soft lines of his cheeks, the intensity of his stare, the curve of his lips… As much as he wanted to will it away, he had selfish reasons for wanting to meet Geiszler. He imagined that they’d fit together so perfectly: he, the mathematical genius and Geiszler, the young prodigy, unbound by any field or discipline. Would their hands lock together as naturally as their minds?

He’d been wrong. Their meeting ended in absolute disaster. Geislzer’s obnoxious attitude and irreverence for everything made Hermann’s skin crawl. Loud. Rude. Totally uncharismatic. The antithesis of _everything_ he’d grown to value and respect. A tiny part of himself ached when Geiszler slammed the door of his laboratory in his face, yelling all the way down the hall, “Jesus Christ, you guys _normally_ hire assholes like this?!” After a while, though, he came to terms with it: just one more in a series of rejections, misunderstandings, disappointments, all spelled out in the invisible threads weaving his life together.

Fate.

So for the next ten years, he worked alongside Geiszler, one day bleeding into the next. Every day, they fought over something: the temperature of the laboratory, the volume of Geiszler’s horrid rock music, the validity of Hermann’s latest Drift calculations--which Geiszler had no business questioning, he was a biologist, for God’s sake. Every day, the same. Finally, Hermann had the comfort of predictability, stability. Finally, fate had righted itself.

Until one day, when Hermann finished the latest in his Drift projections, and realized that fate had chosen to pull the curtain on humanity.

A triple event. All of his calculations flew right out the window at that moment as the nearly impossible became certainty. If he still believed that God listened to quaint little things like prayers, he’d have sent one up. Instead, he continued to work. Things continued to go off the rails, culminating in the moment when he found Newton Geiszler bleeding from the nose on the lab floor, seizing, Drifting with a Kaiju brain. Ironically, that disturbed Hermann less than what he did in response: throw himself on the floor, scoop Newton up in his arms and take care of him.

He’d enrolled in the Jaeger Academy to bring order back to a chaotic world, a world ruled by fear of the unknown. Now, everything had fallen apart, and thing that frightened Hermann most was that he didn’t care.

Perhaps that’s why he’d drifted with Geiszler--Newton--and the Kaiju brain. Perhaps he thought he’d find some sense of sanity and order again. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He’d instead stumbled into a milieu of emotions and memories that haunted Hermann long after they’d closed the Breach, long after the celebrations died down and things had returned to an approximation of normal. Hermann doubted that he’d ever know what normal meant again.

* * *

 

“Hey, Hermann!” Newton ran toward Hermann from down the hall as he tried to make it back to his room unnoticed. Nearly a week had passed since the closing of the Breach, and Hermann had spent the vast majority of that time cooped up in his quarters, avoiding contact with everyone, trying to hash out what all this meant while maintaining some semblance of sanity.

He knew he should be happy, and yet something inside him ached. His faith in the order of the universe, the order of himself, had been shaken. Newton, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the excited energy pulsing throughout the Shatterdome. Of course; he loved the attention, loved the acclaim. Everything in Newton's life seemed to be naught but a fancy.

“Can I help you, Newton?”

“I wanted to know if we could talk. About...things.” Hermann arched an eyebrow. He should have ignored him.

“Things?” Newton sighed dramatically and put his hands on his hips.

“Yes! Things! Like, I dunno, the fact that we Drifted a week ago and we haven’t even talked about it.” Hermann scowled and turned away.

“There’s… nothing to discuss.” Before he could continue down the hall, Newton had his hand on Hermann’s arm. “G-get off of me, you scoundrel!”

“No. Listen to me. I know… we haven’t been friends. We’re barely colleagues, but I saw something in the Drift that we need to talk about. I know you did too, because I--” Newton paused, lowering his voice. “I’ve been hiding things from you too. Please, Hermann. I don’t want anything from you but an hour of your time, maybe less.” Newton was close to him, close enough to send the beginnings of a flush up the back of Hermann’s neck. He hadn’t expected this, but then...nothing made sense anymore.

“...Very well, Newton. Come with me to my quarters and we’ll talk.” Hermann regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, but he couldn’t back out now. He unlocked the door to his quarters and stepped in, Newton following close behind. “Have a seat wherever you like.” Hermann put his cane against the wall and sat in his reading chair, while Newton sat on the edge of the bed across from him.

“Hermann...do you believe in fate?” Newton stared up at him with a remarkable degree of vulnerability in his eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Yeah, see...I didn’t used to.” Newton wrung his hands together. “I always thought fate just made excuses for people to do bad shit, to take shortcuts, to...you know, generally be a worse person. Fate slows people down. Fate makes people expect less of themselves.”

“You might also say that fate provides those same people with direction, with meaning in an otherwise chaotic world.”

“...Boy, I can’t even get my damn point across without you arguing with me, huh?” Newt quipped, but he had an almost dreamy smile on his face. “Let me finish.”

Hermann pursed his lips. “My apologies. Do continue.”

“It’s just--you and me, we’ve been dancing around each other for almost twelve years now. Twelve years, Hermann. We can’t get rid of each other. Now, we’ve Drifted and--” Newton paused, running his hand nervously through his hair. “Everything’s changed now.”

“...Has it?” Hermann sniped.

“Yes! No, don’t you fuckin’ dare do this, Hermann. I’m not playing this game where we argue for the sake of arguing, this is--this is seriously--” Newton stopped talking abruptly and rose to his feet, pressing his lips to Hermann’s unceremoniously. Hermann stiffened under his touch, his mind short-circuiting, screaming for this to stop… and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to push Newton away. Some quiet, starving part of Hermann wanted this--no, needed this.

“W-what does this...haa, have to do with fate, Newton Geiszler?” Hermann finally pulled away for breath after several moments of simply enjoying the feeling of Newton’s lips sliding against his own. Newton stopped, his arms on either side of Hermann, his face mere inches away.

“Twelve years, Hermann. Don’t you think that maybe... _this_ was fate?” Hermann looked up into Newton’s eyes, trying to discern from them exactly what Newton had offered: a release from the long years of fighting, of bickering, of long nights alone in bed grinding his teeth and beating his pillow trying desperately to justify this pattern, this never-ending temporal loop of frustration, anger, want. He hadn't thought it possible.

“Newton…” Hermann slid his hand up, cupping Newton’s scruffy cheek. His body refused to take orders from his mind any longer. He had his answer, after all this time; a way to free himself from the fate he’d decided for himself. “What did you see in the Drift?” He watched his hand slide up into Newton’s hair--my God, it was so soft, softer than he’d imagined.

“I saw that you love me. I saw that I love you. Isn’t that...all that really fucking matters?” Hermann’s eyes widened, and the pieces clicked into place: mooning over Newton’s photographs; the countless nights he’d spent alone in his room as a child, pining and yearning for someone to relate to, someone to love him; the daily struggle to simply _exist_ around Newton without imploding--

“Yes.” Hermann answered simply, breathlessly. What else was there to say? Newton’s mouth curled into an incandescent, brilliant smile, and Hermann felt his entire body grow warm.

“God, Hermann, I…” Newton placed his hands on either side of Hermann’s face, running his thumbs along his cheekbones. “Please, let me…”

“You can do with me whatever you like, Newton.” Hermann felt the words tumbling from his mouth. They came so easily now; how had he not understood for so long? Newton said no more, simply pressed his mouth to Hermann’s again, this time more gently. Hermann moaned as Newton slid his tongue into his mouth, pulling gently at the buttons of his shirt.

“You know how long...heh, I’ve wanted this?” Hermann chuckled breathlessly, moving his hands to Newton’s hips and pulling him closer.

“I’d wager...as long as I have.” Newton smiled against his lips and opened Hermann’s shirt. He shivered as his skin touched the cold air, but Newton pressed his body against him. “You’re so warm…” Newton peppered his chest with kisses, finally coming to rest on one of Hermann’s nipples. As he sucked and teased it, he slid his hand down between Hermann’s legs. “Ah! Newton--” Hermann arched his back and let his legs fall open wider.

“What do you want, Hermann?” Newton unbuckled Hermann’s belt and pulled it out of the loops.

“You know what I want.” Hermann answered huskily. Newton nodded, rising to his feet and pulling Hermann along as he backed up into the bed. Hermann shook off his shirt and climbed onto the bed beside Newton. “I can’t...you’ll have to be on top.”

“Oh, _darn_. How disappointing.” Newton rolled his eyes and turned over, kissing Hermann and pulling his trousers down and off his hips.

“Hardly fair for me to be naked while you’ve got all your--ahh, ohh--” Hermann hadn’t time to finish his sentence before Newton had his mouth on his cock, his hands sliding up and down Hermann’s thighs. “N-newton, ohh…”

“Hmmm?” Newton hummed around his cock, lifting his glasses up and perching them in his hair.

“A-awfully rude to interrupt me…” Newton began to bob his head in response, and Hermann mind ceased to form coherent thought. The heat of his mouth, and god, what was he doing with his tongue? It threatened to overwhelm him, and he didn’t want that, not yet. “N-newton, don’t overdo it--”

“Why not?” Newton pulled off, grinning like a fool as he took him in his fist and lazily stroked. “Got something else planned for me, Dr. Gottlieb?” Hermann pushed himself up to sitting position, leaning down to kiss Newton hard.

“Mm, in the bedside table.” Newton scrambled over to the edge of the bed, leaning forward and rummaging through Hermann’s things until he came across a half-empty bottle of lube and a few loose condoms.

“Ooh, Hermann, how long have _these_ been in here?” Hermann rolled his eyes.

“Please, Newton. I’m not a blushing virgin.” The corner of Newton’s mouth turned up into a cocky grin.

“Well, you’re _definitely_ blushing…” He leaned down and ghosted his lips over Hermann’s neck, chuckling when he felt him shiver beneath him. “...and you don’t have to tell me you’re not a virgin. I know.”

“Then you must have also gathered that I’m not a particularly patient lover.” Hermann reached down and grasped Newton’s hips, running his thumbs over his skin. “If you would be so kind--”

“Come on, I know you can do better than that. Tell me how you really feel.” Hermann smirked and took the lubricant out of Newton’s hands, using a thumb to flip the cap up while using his other hand to pull him close.

“Very well, Newton.” He whispered into his ear, snaking his hand behind him and deftly pressing one slick finger, then two inside of Newton. Hermann relished the sharp hiss this elicited, the arch of Newton’s back and the low moan that rumbled against his shoulder as he rested his head there. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long it seems as if I’ve wanted you forever. Perhaps…” Hermann paused, sliding his fingers in deeper and stretching him open, catching Newton’s mouth in a kiss as he gasped. “Perhaps I _have_ wanted you forever.”

“God, that’s awfully fuckin’ romantic of you.”

“Pardon? You started it with all that “fate” business--”

“Which you agreed with--”

“Are you seriously trying to start a fight with me moments before we sleep together? I literally have two fingers inside your--”

Newton laughed breathlessly. “What can I say? I like watching your eyes light up like little--ahh, fuck, little fireworks when you get m-mad at me.”

Hermann shook his head and pulled him down for another kiss, sliding his tongue alongside his and biting his bottom lip. “Now who is the romantic one?”

“Please fuck me.”

“As you wish, Dr. Geiszler.” Hermann guided Newton down onto his cock, wincing at the new weight on his leg but regretting nothing once he’d fully enveloped himself in the heat of Newton’s body. Christ, it felt like he’d needed this for centuries. Perhaps he had. Perhaps, at some point in the history of their species, their consciousnesses had collided somehow, revolved around each other on awkward paths, celestial bodies destined to smash spectacularly together into a thousand cosmic sparks.

“H-hermann, fuck, let me--”

“Do what you wish, Newton… My mobility, as you might expect, has limits.” Newton grinned down at him and rolled his hips, eliciting a low groan from Hermann.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

* * *

 

“So much for "just an hour of my time", hmm?” Hermann chuckled as Newton nuzzled his face into his chest, his eyes half-closed and his arm draped over his stomach. His body still thrummed with the aftershock of orgasm, still tingled in places where Newton had grazed his teeth or grasped with his fingers.

“Shaddup. You enjoyed every second of that very long hour.” Newton paused for a moment, looking up at him through the fringe of his hair. “Hey...were you telling me the truth?”

“Mm? What? The truth about what?” He carded his fingers lazily through Newton’s hair as he spoke.

“That you believe in fate. I wouldn’t...have expected that out of you.”

“Why not?” Newton shrugged, holding Hermann a little tighter around the waist.

“Well, you know, you’re all about math. “Handwriting of God”, and all that. How does that make sense if you believe that everything’s somehow… predetermined?”

“For God’s sake, Newton, I’m not a Calvinist.”

“What _are_ you, then?” Hermann paused for a moment, then looked down at Newton, into his eyes.

“Simply very certain that in all the world, no other place exists for me than this one, right here.” Newton’s cheeks lit up with color and he propped himself up, leaning over Hermann and pressing their foreheads together.

“Wow, babe, it’s like you read my mind or something.” Hermann snorted and gently shoved Newton back into the mattress, pressing closer until their limbs tangled and their bodies nudged against one another as they drew breath.

“Indeed,” Hermann mumbled, his own eyes growing heavy with sleep and his mind succumbing to exhaustion. A small part of him feared the coming of morning, wondered if Newton would come to his senses and recant the whole thing.

As fate would have it, he did not.


End file.
